


Static

by Flightless_Bird



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Accidental Coming Out, Coming Out, Established Relationship, Ethan cries, Fluff, Homophobia, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mild Language, Quarantine, but Mark is good bf, livestream, obviously, one homophobic slur, people ship it, these two idiots out themselves online lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-19
Updated: 2020-10-19
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:49:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27105253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flightless_Bird/pseuds/Flightless_Bird
Summary: “ Crankiplier?” Ethan read.“That’s what you have to say to this? We just—came out!”“We still are coming out! You didn’t turn it off yet!”“Because it feels weird now! We can’t end like this!”Or, Mark screwed up.
Relationships: Mark Fischbach/Ethan Nestor
Comments: 7
Kudos: 443





	Static

**Author's Note:**

> I’m sorry, I like hurting them and having them help each other. This can kinda be seen as a part two to my other fic but can also be read alone. I hope you like! :)

It was an accident.

They had been keeping the relationship pretty quiet for a bit. It was still a little new and they didn’t want any extra scrutiny while they were figuring out how they fit together. There was already a monumental amount of shipping among the viewers, something they’d been surprisingly well at keeping to jokes in comments and posts on sites that Mark and Ethan knew to steer clear of. But they also knew that as soon as the news was out, it was going to bring a whole new level of comments and content to their channels, to what they showed the public. They wanted to take their time with it. And they were.

Until the night Mark fucked it all up, that is.

They’d decided to go live for an ‘Unus Annus Quarantine Special,’ bringing the viewers along as they tried to convert Mark’s house into an ‘apocalypse fortress.’ (The effort and results were abysmal—they’d tried to booby trap the doorways with homemade oil slicks and honey) It had gone well, a lot of stupid jokes and laughing approval from the chat. Now they were readying to close, in Mark’s recording room. Ethan was still trying to use paper towels to get remnants of honey off of his hands. Mark had his hand on the mouse, preparing to say goodbye to the fans. He arched a brow in Ethan’s direction.

“...you wanna look over here, bud, or are gonna just ignore everyone for the last two minutes?”

“Shut up, I’m trying!” Ethan laughed, holding his sticky hands up. “I can only do so much with these hands!”

“ _These_ hands!” Mark echoed exaggeratedly, mirroring Ethan’s raised hands.

The two cackled stupidly. Mark knocked their shoulders together in affection and Ethan warmed. He suddenly couldn’t wait to end the stream. Mark looked so soft in his long-sleeved Unus Annus shirt, dark hair all rumpled and in his eyes. Ethan ached with the urge to kiss him.

“Whelp!” Mark popped the p and clapped a hand on the table. “Looks like that’s it for tonight’s episode. Thank you all for your lovely suggestions.”

“Yes, thank you,” Ethan chimed in, taking on his dark Unus Annus accent. It landed on the amusing side with his sticky hands held up for the camera. “We’ll be sure to update you on how well our barricades last in the upcoming zombie apocalypse.”

“Until then,” Mark intoned, pointing to the screen, “stay safe out there. And remember, no barricade can truly protect you from death.”

“It breaks any door,” Ethan agreed.

“Any window.”

“Any...chimney.”

Mark shot him a confused glance. Ethan shrugged. “I couldn’t think of any other entrances!” he defended himself and they were soon giggling at each other again.

Shaking his head, Mark turned back to the screen. “Any chimney,” he chuckled. “Good luck to you all.”

“And don’t touch your face!” Ethan added, a moment before he heard the click of the mouse. Immediately, he gave a frustrated cry and tried to unstick his hands from the paper towel he was utterly destroying. Mark had turned from the computer as soon as he’d clicked the exit button, reaching for more towels for Ethan.

Preoccupied as they were, neither of them noticed that they were still streaming.

Ethan grimaced in Mark’s direction, flexing his hands. “I think maybe we used too much,” he remarked.

“We?” Mark asked pointedly.

“Okay, fine, _I_ used too much. But I was just following along with what everyone else wanted.”

“As usual.”

“Asshole.” Ethan softened the insult with a smile. “D’you think you can grab me some water too? I don’t think the towels are gonna cut it on their own.”

It was then that he noticed the flurry of chats letting them know that they were still, in fact, on air. He opened his mouth to say something, just as Mark appeared beside him—incredibly close. His chest was up against Ethan’s shoulder, forehead grazing his. Pressing the paper towels into Ethan’s hands, Mark placed a brief kiss on his mouth. “Sure thing, babe,” he murmured, smiling softly.

Ethan just stared, wide-eyed. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the chat _exploding_.

Mark drew back a bit, brow furrowing. “What?”

“Mark, it didn’t turn off,” Ethan blurted out.

“What do you—?” Realization dawned over Mark’s face and he whipped around to the computer. “Shit!”

Ethan raked his eyes over the chat, feeling his face burn.

_BABE?!?!?_

_THEY KISSED OMG THEY FCKING KISSED DID YOU SEE THAT???_

_WHAT THE FUCK_

_BABE BABE BABE BABE_

_CRANKIPLIER IS SAILING!!!_

_OH MY GOD_

_“Shiiiiit_ ,” Mark hissed.

“Crankiplier?” Ethan read.

“ _That’s_ what you have to say to this? We just—came out!”

“We still _are_ coming out! You didn’t turn it off yet!”

“Because it feels weird now! We can’t end like this!”

“Why not? I think we gave them enough fanservice for a month!”

Mark looked conflicted, gaze moving from Ethan and back to the screen. Ethan tried to force a bit of a laugh, partially to lighten the mood for the people still watching; he also wasn’t sure why Mark was so worried. Sure they’d wanted to wait a while longer, but Mark actually looked frightened.

“Mark, whats—?” Ethan followed his gaze to the chat again.

_Omgomgomg_

_You guys are so precious, oh my god_

_IVE BEEN WAITINGGGGG_

_Fag_

Ethan felt his stomach drop. “Oh.”

Darting for the mouse, Mark jabbed the exit button—three times this time, and shut off the monitor. The two of them stood in the darker quiet. Ethan’s mind was a numb cloud of static.

It was Mark who spoke again, hushed. “I’m sorry.”

Ethan blinked at him. “Why’re you sorry?”

“For....that.”

“It’s not your fault.”

Mark didn’t answer, and chewed on his bottom lip.

The paper towels crunched under Ethan’s hands as he halfheartedly wiped at them again. The word kept flashing again and again behind his eyelids, making him nauseous. Suddenly, he knew that he was going to cry. “I’m—I’m gonna go wash this off,” he stammered, hurrying for the door.

“Eth?” Mark’s voice trailed after him, but Ethan kept going, because now his vision was blurry with hot tears. Dammit, why was he so sensitive? He’d been online for years now. This kind of thing happened all the time.

He made it to the bathroom and stuck his hands under hot water, gasping at the initial sting and turning the heat down. A tear fell loose and plunked into the sink.

He wondered which of them they’d been referring to. Ethan, probably. He was used to being the brunt of those cruel jokes. He couldn’t imagine any people watching Mark would say something like that to him. The idea of it made Ethan shake with the wave of anger that hit him.

A knock at the door made him glance up. Mark stood there, hesitating. “You okay?”

“No,” Ethan croaked, and now he crumpled into tears.

Mark’s face fell. “Oh, Ethan.” He went to him and folded him up in his arms, rubbing his back. Ethan buried his face in Mark’s chest and sobbed. He wanted to curl up in bed and never leave. He wanted to scream at the people who would leave such a disgusting thing on their video, _their_ time together.

“It’s okay,” Mark murmured into his hair. “They’re some asshole, alone on a computer. They don’t matter.”

“Yes, they d—do,” Ethan hiccuped.

“Ethan...”

Ethan lifted his head and gazed up at Make through reddened eyes. “Did it hurt you?”

Mark didn’t say anything, but the hard line of his jaw said it all.

“Then it matters.”

Cradling Ethan’s face, Mark stroked his cheeks with his thumbs to catch a few more tears. “It doesn’t—not really. They can’t change how I feel about you, or how you feel about me, or how much of that we show anyone.”

“Would you even wanna show them?” Ethan asked, voice small.

Mark gave him a wry half-smile. “Only if you did. They know now, so we don’t have any reason to hide it anymore.” He ran a hand through Ethan’s hair and cracked a teasing grin. “And you know I’d love to show you off.”

Ethan managed a tiny giggle then, dragging his hand over his tearstained face. “Shut up, you’re the pretty one.”

“Hey, you’re not so bad yourself, hot stuff.” Mark nuzzled into the crook of Ethan’s neck, placing kisses there until Ethan laughed aloud.

Rubbing the last of his tears away, he gazed up at Mark fondly. “...you’re really stupid, you know.”

“What?!”

“You didn’t even turn off the fucking stream!”

Mark spluttered. “You—We—I was trying to help _you_ clean up _your_ mess!”

“Yeah, and you weren’t paying attention!” Ethan accused laughingly.

“Excuse me, I don’t remember _you_ saying anything when everyone started losing their shit.”

“Because you kissed me before I could!”

“Well, that’s—that’s stupid!” Mark finished lamely.

They fake-glared at each other for a moment longer before collapsing into silly giggles. Ethan had a feeling they were going to be okay.

“....I just remembered there’s honey all over your floors too.”


End file.
